What's a Queen to a Goddess?
by theglamourfades
Summary: Alex has never been the jealous type, but things can change. AU one-shot set during 2.4.


**A/N: So I decided (a little while ago) to take on arguably the most iconic Ashes episode of them all, in fandom terms...I hope I've done it justice! *runs and hides***

 **Narrative and time-wise this follows on from Addicted To Love, though you don't need to have read that to make sense of this. All you need to know is that Gene and Alex are in a relationship that is more than just professional (which is what we're all here for, right?).**

 **Ashes To Ashes belongs to Matthew Graham and Ashley Pharoah. The latter wrote 2.4, from which I am borrowing some dialogue.**

 **The M rating tells you what the basis of this fic is...whoops (blame those two, not me! ;) )**

* * *

 _What's a Queen to a Goddess?_

Alex sat at the table, alternating between taking long slugs from her glass and toying with the box of toothpicks that stood on the surface. She glanced around at the now-familiar surroundings, studied the figures of the mural on the wall before looking down at her fingernails, bitten down and bare of nail varnish.

Letting out an exaggerated huff didn't help matters, as attentions had been diverted. It had been the same story all day long; she may as well have been invisible, transported into yet another dimension without leaving a trace behind. That possibility was certainly the most preferable at this moment in time. Even Luigi had failed to take notice of her request for more wine first time around, intrigued by the new additions to the usual party. He had followed up swiftly enough when she threw him a look of disdain, scurrying over with a new bottle of white and repeating _"scusa, Signorina"_ until she politely bid him to be quiet, reassuring him that it was quite alright.

Now she was thinking that she had been rather hasty in hurrying the Italian away.

"Well, I had no idea what they charge for rent here, and I was skint," the hitherto elusive teenager explained her motives, though Alex considered that surely they didn't take much investigation to work out, "so I talked to some girls I met, and they said that this bloke pays really good money just to have you at one of his parties."

"And what do you think happens at his parties?" the bubble-permed blonde shrieked, "Pass the parcel?"

"I doubt that very much," DC Skelton interjected.

Rachel shrugged, slumping back in her chair. "Well I don't know, that's why I was going to find out."

Gene leant forward on his elbows, directing his gaze towards the girl. Alex watched him from her corner, halfway between feeling pride for his quiet and concerted concern and deep envy at the fact that he hadn't so much as thrown a single glance in her direction since they'd got to the trattoria.

"Should listen to your Auntie Jackie. Maybe you wouldn't 'ave come back from that party."

She noticed his eyes flit towards the aforementioned Ms Queen and an uncomfortable spiky shudder worked its way slowly down her spine, intensifying when she saw how the intruder simpered back at him. It was of no use; all the wine in the world wouldn't be enough to wash the bitter taste from her mouth at being relegated to a mere onlooker at this cosy little scene.

She'd only been aware of the woman for around twelve hours but in that short space of time Jackie Queen had successfully managed to grate on every nerve she had available.

If it wasn't presumptuous enough to waltz into CID without any prior warning and expect them all to drop everything to cater unreservedly to her she had seen fit to promote herself amongst their rank, nothing other than her history with Gene qualifying her to become his unofficial sidekick. She had undermined Alex – the _actual Detective Inspector_ – at every turn, overruling everything she said, trashing her superior knowledge with flimsy hunches and rendering her indiscernible to Gene. She was brash, brassy, had all the subtlety of a foghorn going off at full volume.

And the incessant smoking – Alex had never known anything like it, wrinkling her nose at the vile scent that lingered, even though by some miracle she wasn't dragging on a cigarette at the current moment. She wasn't the biggest fan of Gene's smoking but the habit was bearable when he partook in it. Maybe it was the brand he smoked, or the fact that he wasn't putting an innocent being at direct risk every time he lit up.

The real thought of the baby occurred to her again and she took another sizeable sip from her glass. It wasn't what bothered her; she wasn't heartless. For God's sake she was a mother herself, even if her child resided in another world entirely. She was more than capable of being an adult about the whole strange situation. Lots of other people found themselves in relationships where their significant other had a child with another person. It wasn't a big deal and it wouldn't be a sledgehammer driving a wedge between her and Gene.

She just wished that his past self would have been a little more discerning than to have an unguarded dalliance with Jackie Queen. _My god, she's practically slathering over him and he is loving every single second. I'm living in a total nightmare._

"Five famous people from Devon," DS Carling punctured the simmering atmosphere by speaking.

"What?" Chris responded.

"Go on, name me five famous people from Devon."

She made the mistake of looking again towards Gene. Seeing that he was still staring unapologetically towards his former flame, her heart sank even further down her body. She needed a mental distraction.

"Sir Walter Raleigh."

"I didn't ask you."

Ray sneered across the table towards her, and she shrugged his sour look off, smirking into her near-empty glass. _Sir Francis Drake, Samuel Coleridge, Agatha Christie...Michael Foot._ Well, that hadn't diverted her further than a few inches.

"I've got a brilliant idea," Rachel announced from the furthest end of the table.

Alex very much hoped it would factor catching the first coach back to Manchester posthaste.

"I hope it involves you putting on your pyjamas," Jackie cut in, intruding on yet another of Alex's thoughts, "if your mother knew you were up this late..."

"Look, why don't you use me to catch this Jarvis bloke?"

"Oh god, give me strength."

Rachel turned on her chair to face her auntie. "Oh, shut up!" Alex suppressed a smile, thinking that she rather liked Rachel and her dogged determination. "Look, you can mike me up, I'll go to one of his parties and then if things start to get dangerous, you burst in and arrest him."

All three women stared hard at Gene, who must have felt like he was on trial.

"I don't use civilians as bait, love," he concluded eventually, the most sensible thing he'd said for a good few hours.

"Ignore her," Jackie exclaimed, "this time tomorrow she'll be wrapped up under her Bananarama duvet cover."

Rachel got to her feet, a look of thunder clouding her face. "This is why I ran away from home, because people like _you_ keep treatin' me like I'm a kid!"

"And where are you going?" Jackie swivelled in her chair as much as her baby bump would allow the leeway to do so, eyes blazing as she followed her niece's movements.

"To have a piss," she shouted behind her, in not the most lady-like of fashions.

For once Jackie was hushed, leaving Alex to lean back in her seat, biting back the urge to be obnoxious. Instead she ignored the other woman sitting at her side, turning her gaze towards Gene, who was being unusually quiet.

"Well, we can see where she gets it from," she quipped, finishing off the dregs from her glass and revelling in the chaos, knowing she had very little to do with causing it. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and so on."

Jackie was silent for less time than she had bargained on.

"Strong genes," she said with a smile upon her face, one hand rubbing over her swollen stomach as she looked across the table. "Speaking of which, I've been having a little think about names and I can't come up with a better name for Junior."

"Oh, brilliant..." Alex muttered under her breath, Jackie remaining oblivious to the rolling of her eyes.

"It's got a nice ring to it," the other woman continued, "little Gene Queen."

"I don't think so," Gene scoffed, arms folded across his chest. "There's only one name that fits, and it isn't bloody Queen."

Alex snapped her gaze from him to Jackie, who wore a stony expression.

"You going to make a decent woman out of me then?"

Her heart pounded in her chest, her mouth going dry as she looked back to Gene, held on a knife-edge as she waited for his response to Jackie's question. Surely he wasn't going to take her seriously. For Christ's sake, it had taken him this long to consider _her_ as near to his equal. It had been barely five minutes and he was showing Jackie more respect than he had to her in going on a year. _He wouldn't_ , she told herself. The fact that they were together was no longer a secret amongst the rest of CID, even if the renowned journalist hadn't picked up on it as yet. Perhaps he needed to get her pregnant too, and then the stakes would be fair.

He looked towards Alex momentarily before deigning to give Jackie her answer.

"We'll have to see what he comes out as first, then I'll make me mind up."

She felt a stab of pain square in her chest, trying desperately not to let the hurt seep into her expression.

"Ey, Guv, we could 'ave a double wedding," Chris offered cheerily.

Jackie smiled, her hand resting on top of her bump. "Well I don't have that long to go, if you can recall."

Gene lowered his head, avoiding Jackie's gaze and brushing his hand at the back of his neck. _Defence mechanism._

"Tell us more about this charity do then," Ray broke in, his face positively alight. "Or should I say, what 'appened _after_ the do."

Chris nudged at his best mate's arm with his elbow. "Ey, don't you think you should leave it?"

Alex noticed Chris's perturbed look in her direction and felt temporarily heartened that someone at the table actually cared about her feelings.

As she might have expected Ray shook his head, shushing Chris without saying so.

"And more to the point, why wasn't I invited if there were easy birds there? Again, no offence, Jackie."

She shrugged, reaching into her handbag for the cigarette packet.

"Who made the first move, then?"

Jesus, they all knew Ray was a bit of a perv, but right now he was acting more like an adolescent girl at a sleepover.

"Luigi, do you happen to have any more of this behind the bar?" Alex raised the empty bottle into the air, turning away from the ongoing conversation.

"Si, Signorina. One moment."

"There's not much to tell," Jackie said, sparking up and casting a glance towards Gene, who remained staring at the table. "You know what he's like when he's blind drunk. It wasn't his best performance, but it was enough to do the trick."

Ray's eyes looked as though they were going to fall out of his head. "What, it's happened more than once? Bloody 'ell, Guv, you kept that one quiet!"

Jackie let out a cloying laugh. "Oh, he's ended up in my bed loads of times. He just can't help himself, a moth to a flame."

Alex couldn't resist looking, but there wasn't even the slightest growl of disagreement from the Manc Lion.

"It's a good job I had the mind to take precautions on every other occasion, else we'd have a football team by now."

"Well, I never," Ray exclaimed, the delight clear in his voice, "nice one, Guv!"

She had been teetering all evening but the revelations that had barely unfolded were about as much as she could take.

"You leavin', Ma'am?"

Chris was the one to ask after her; _he_ obviously didn't have the balls to show even the most basic of considerations.

"Yes," she answered curtly, "I've had a bit of a headache all afternoon. They tend to be aggravated by shrill and repetitive noises."

Jackie scoffed, chuckling once she'd blown a cloud of smoke ceiling-wards.

Alex waited for a moment or two, wondering whether if she stared at Gene for long enough that he'd pick up on the fact she desperately needed some reassurance and comfort from him.

Nothing.

"See you all tomorrow."

"Bols..."

His voice came up quietly a few seconds afterwards but she didn't stop to listen to what he had to say; it was too little, too late, and her pride had been wounded quite enough for one day.

"Signorina Drake," Luigi trailed after her on her way to the exit, "your bottle of vino."

She cast a solitary glance back towards the table, seeing Jackie leaning over unashamedly towards Gene, the space between them closing more rapidly by the second.

"Leave it with them," she told the Italian, the sigh settling in her chest. "I believe a celebration might be on the cards."

* * *

Viv was rather taken aback when she burst through the doors of the otherwise empty CID, and she painted a smile onto her previously sombre expression to face him.

"I...umm...wanted to go over a couple of files," she found herself coming up for an explanation at why she should have turned up alone when the rest of the team had long since decamped for the evening, "something occurred to me and I thought I'd better check it over."

The skipper smiled sympathetically. "Having trouble finding the off switch?"

"Oh, you know me, Viv." She broke gaze with him in the dim light, thinking how different everything seemed when the place was deserted. A strange kind of serenity had descended. "I'll lock up once I'm finished."

"If you're sure?"

Alex nodded. "You go home and put your feet up, get some peace. I won't give you away."

"Thanks, Ma'am. Not that I don't like it in there but, well, you need a bit of a break sometimes, don't you?"

She smiled in silent assent. Tonight she really should have followed suit.

"See you in the morning. And don't work too hard; you're off the clock, after all."

"I won't, I promise," she spoke to Viv's retreating shadow, closing the doors behind her once he was completely out of sight.

Flicking a single desk lamp on she wandered around aimlessly, keyed up with emotion. Aside from Shaz's and her own workstations the others were in a terrible state, spilling over with reams of paper, old newspapers, chains of paper-clips and empty cigarette packets. Anything else that was lurking underneath she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to know about.

Though they all really would benefit she decided not to go on a one-woman cleaning mission. It would be too obvious once the morning arrived and she'd ended up here precisely because she didn't want to be discovered. It was sad, really, that she had no other place of refuge to call upon. She'd foregone the flat, thinking that it would be too easy for Gene to come knocking. _That's if he can tear himself away from having his ego stroked by that screeching hussy._ She didn't want to hear his excuses, anyway. She just wanted to be alone to be pissed off with him without judgement coming from some quarter, even if he remained completely oblivious to her feelings.

Funny how quickly things changed, even here, where there was no clear understanding of the passing of time. It was only twenty four hours ago that they'd broken away, holed themselves up within the very same walls to bug Mac's office and formulate the plan of exactly how they were going to bring the Super down to earth with one hell of a bump. Just the two of them. She'd mentioned letting Ray and Chris in on it too but had been rather pleased when Gene had dismissed the notion. It had brought them even closer, strengthened their bond. Beforehand she had been certain that having an intimate relationship would inevitably affect their working one, but if anything it came as an advantage. It proved unequivocally that she placed every ounce of trust she had in him and he could do the same with her, letting down guards that she imagined had stood firm for years.

It thrilled her to her bones, never encountering such a depth of connection before and having it embed within every part of her life. Working together, staying at one another's side; taking on the world and anyone who dared to challenge them.

Except the foundations she had believed were unshakeable had started to crack with only the slightest bit of impact placed upon them. It might have been more bearable if it was loyalty to his superior that had caused a change of heart. She might not have fully understood, not after he'd been so determined, but she would have come to terms with it easier than all of this. The appearance of _Jackie bloody Queen_ , so out of the blue and letting her know in unadulterated detail what he'd been up to nearly nine months previous, had blindsided her. It wasn't exactly as if she could accuse him of being unfaithful, but seeing as she had been head over heels for many more months without being completely aware it felt like a betrayal all the same. Even if she had become involved in the case that could derail Mac's career there was no reason for Gene to allow her to follow him around, not daring to push her away when she came dangerously close to overstepping the mark. _God, why did I leave them alone? They could be getting up to anything; I don't even want to think how far she's willing to go to persuade him._

Apparently she was destined to fall for the same kind of man, even when she lived an entirely different existence, never learning from her mistakes. She'd put her faith in Gene, absolutely so in the last few months, honestly believed that he was different.

The angel on her shoulder fought hard to overrule the opposing devil. _It was only words. You don't really think he'd give in, do you?_

A different spike travelled up her spine, crawled into the synapses of her brain. She considered with some regret that everything with Gene had let her get in too deep when she should have been keeping up the fight. She told herself that she was, by living rather than existing, opening her heart rather than shutting herself off. How often had Molly told her that she needed to get a life – in a way that was only a little bit dismissive, as only an almost-teenager could get away with being – that she should focus on something other than letting her work consume her.

Well, she had done as her precious daughter had asked, but it was getting her no closer to being back.

The voice that chilled her to the core was back there in her head, the silky feel of the blood-red petals brushing like phantoms against her fingertips.

 _Don't spoil my fun, or people will get hurt._

 _You see, I know you don't belong in this world._

 _This isn't the end, Alex._

She shuddered violently, chasing the faceless presence away, wanting to scream from the top of her lungs to banish it for good. Feelings of guilt and hypocrisy floated up to the surface as she fought against the surging tide threatening to drag her under.

 _You're blaming him for something that you couldn't have prevented, but aren't you being just as bad for not telling him about the roses? About this bloke who's following you around?_

There was hardly a comparison. He'd fly off the handle for no reason if he knew, suspect the worst automatically, and she could handle it by herself anyway. She was protecting him by not telling him. Meanwhile, all he was doing was hurting her, and quite blatantly so.

She continued staring into the darkness, until the voice she'd only half-expected to arrive echoed within the empty room.

"Bolly!" His gruff tone reverberated against the walls, causing the back of her neck to prickle and her stomach to turn somersaults. Shit, why did he have to make her feel this way constantly? "Not like you to walk away from a full bottle of house rubbish without so much as a sniff. Come down with the plague or somethin'?"

She made out the shadow of him, drawing closer to where she was leaning against her desk.

"Leave me alone, Guv."

"No," he shot back within the second, "not until you give me a good enough reason for why you left me in the lurch."

He turned on the lamp that stood beside her desk, throwing light on both of their faces.

"Dozy mare... 'ave you been cryin'?"

She had turned away to allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden burst of brightness, which also gave her the handy opportunity to hide from him, even if it was but momentarily. She wasn't sure exactly what she was hoping for, though; even if he was a pig-headed, inconsiderate arsehole visible evidence never escaped his notice.

She looked towards him again, sniffing away the rest of her sorrow.

"You seemed quite happy to be in the company of the mother of your child, so I didn't think that it mattered where I was."

Her bottom lip protruded as he stood in front of her.

"I thought better of you than to pin everythin' on the word of a hack. She makes 'er living windin' people up, expected those brains of yours to see through it."

Alex stayed silent for a few moments in the face of his words, contemplating the toes of her boots. Maybe she had got it wrong after all, jumped to conclusions. The look on his face was far too smug, and the blood started to boil once more in her veins.

"You haven't exactly denied it though, have you?" she challenged him, determined that she could keep her emotions in check. "I don't see what else I'm supposed to think."

He mulled it over, hands stuffed in both pockets, before he came yet nearer and further closed the narrow gap between them.

"I might be a lot of things but I'm not a liar, Bols," he uttered, the confidence of his statement shining through in his steely gaze. "I said me memories were hazy so I wasn't goin' to dig me way out of it if I couldn't remember what went on."

Perhaps she shouldn't have bought it quite so easily, but the longer she stared at him the more she realised that he didn't have any reason to lie to her. And she supposed it was the honourable thing to do, rather than dismiss Jackie out of hand.

The thought of her still set Alex's teeth on edge. She'd practically undressed him with her eyes when they had sat in Luigi's, and had the nerve to do so in front of her, his DI even if she didn't know they were something more to one another.

"Well, it was rather obvious that she was willing to refresh your memory," she folded her arms tight against her chest, not ready to remove the barrier that remained between them just yet, "right there on the bloody table if she had her way."

He was blank-faced for a moment or two before the penny finally dropped with an almighty clang.

"She'd 'ave a flamin' job on her hands," he exclaimed, "it'd be a cold day in hell before I ever sniffed round 'er again."

Alex winced, expecting something a bit better in the way of a compliment.

She felt his eyes raking over her, creeping from the hem of her skirt steadily upwards, taking his time.

" 'sides, why would I want pork pie that's been sitting out for ages when there's fillet steak right next to it on the menu?"

As utterly awful and really quite degrading as the metaphor was, she couldn't help but raise a smile and his piercing blue eyes twinkled, seeing that he'd made a dent in winning back her affections.

"Yes, well, I'm not sure what Jackie would say to that."

"Stuff 'er. She's caused enough trouble as it is, mouthy tart."

She frowned at his assessment. "And I don't want you implying that she's easy, either."

"Jesus Christ, you've been throwin' daggers at 'er since she rocked up and now you're comin' over all Women's Lib? And I thought it was supposed to be her hormones that were all over the place."

She let out a sigh, looking him straight in the eyes and trying not to get distracted. "Look, you can't keep coming out with these wild and offensive stereotypes about women, not when in a very short space of time there's going to be a little person looking up to you as their role model in life. And especially not if it's a boy, as you both seem so convinced that it is."

Gene sniggered, much to her dismay.

"About that, Bols...if you'd 'ave stuck about and not flounced off in a strop then you would 'ave heard the truth."

He turned rather sheepish, stuffing his fists further down into his pockets.

"She said...well, you don't need to know everythin' she said." By the expression on his face it had been something that had put a major dent in his ego. "Long and short of it is that the sprog isn't mine. Poor little sod."

Alex exhaled the breath that she'd been holding for too long, overcome by a deep sense of relief. She looked up towards him again, thinking that he seemed rather more crestfallen than she had expected him to be. The thought occurred to her that underneath all the bluster a part of him was relishing the prospect of a mini Hunt out in the world after all.

"So you didn't...?"

He shook his head. "No. I knew I couldn't 'ave been that pissed."

She frowned, even though she was still delighted most of all. "But why would she be so adamant about it?"

"Because she gets 'er kicks from royally pissin' me off, that's why. You know, this goes back years. '71. She was the one who came onto me, all over me like a rash after two vodka and tonics. I knocked her back, said I was a happily-married man. She's never bloody got over it, been after me like a monkey in heat every chance she gets."

She couldn't stop herself from bursting out laughing. "Oh god, I needed that."

"What?" he boomed at her, less than impressed.

"Nothing," she said, wheezing slightly as she regained her composure, "I just find it very hard to believe that in all of those years you never once made the first move."

His face was impassive, giving nothing away. "Told yer, Bols, I was a happily-married man. For the most part. If you ignore quite a few months, or maybe a couple of years."

She smiled, remaining unconvinced. "Hmmm. So it's Hunt by name, but not by nature? Explains a lot."

His expression shifted into something more thunderous and she revelled in what she had caused, silently. She was goading him quite deliberately but it was nothing less than he deserved, not after he had willingly let Jackie flirt outrageously with him all day and not once stepped in to say something when she had been disrespected so openly in front of the whole team.

"Come to think of it, I would 'ave figured it out for meself. The events of that night are clearin' in me head." He straightened his spine, set his legs a little way apart. "We 'ad a few drinks, a bit of a dance. She 'ad a low-cut top on, so I might 'ave had a bit of a grope. When the goods are right in front of yer...gave 'er arse a slap too. After that, things went black."

"Thankfully."

She heard his footsteps drawing closer again, his presence near enough that he could have easily placed his hand on her knee if he reached out not all that far.

"I was in dire straits, Bolly," he said, the beseeching tone of his voice causing her to lift her gaze upwards to his, "I wasn't gettin' anywhere fast with you and I'd 'ad the horn for goin' on six months straight."

"Oh, so I suppose I should be flattered then? You were going to sleep with her, if you hadn't been steaming drunk, and think of me all the while?"

She thought back to the many nights she lay in bed, fingers teasing and pressing against herself, making-believe that Gene was the one making her feel so good instead.

His gaze was intense, refusing her the chance to look away.

"You know I would 'ave," he uttered in a growl, "the only way I'd manage it with anyone would be to pretend they were you."

Without her being aware he had placed a palm on her thigh and ran his fingers in a tantalising downward trajectory, causing her to gasp when he dipped beneath her skirt and teased little circles on the sensitive spot at the back of her knee.

He pulled back suddenly, standing to full height from where he had loomed over her, a smirk upon his face as she caught her breath back again.

"Y'know, Bolly, yer even sexier when yer jealous," he drawled, chuckling to himself.

She hadn't yet recovered from being so unexpectedly compromised, and leapt to her own defences.

"Why exactly should I be jealous? In case you hadn't noticed we've been having sex on an almost permanent basis for the best part of half a year."

The smirk transformed into an obvious grin, displaying his pride at the fact.

"We weren't back then though, were we? As the black-and-blue state of my balls could attest to." He placed one hand onto the desk she was sitting on top of, leaning his frame back into her so that she could feel the heat cascading from him. "At that point in time my prowess was still a figment in all of your sordid little fantasies. Which leads me to think that the thought of me shaggin' another bird senseless would 'ave just about caused your pretty head to explode."

God damn it, he was right. Even now the idea made her want to unleash all hell. There surely had been countless others but the thought of another woman touching him and kissing him, twining dainty fingers into that golden mane...it was far too much for her to bear. It was crazy; she had never been the jealous type, not even when she knew that Pete was blatantly sleeping around behind her back. It was as though Gene had woven himself into her very soul.

"Could get used to this, y'know. Reckon I should call up some of the other birds from Manchester to come down 'ere and pretend they're up the duff." He smiled down at her, a wicked glint gleaming in his eyes. "There was this barmaid in The Railway Arms that I always fancied the kecks off..."

"I really hate you sometimes," she hissed, her eyes flaring towards him.

He chuckled. "Oh yeah? I bet there's a flood in yer knickers right now that says otherwise, Bolly."

She wanted so much to hold off, to challenge him for a while longer – to get back a greater sense of dignity after a day where she'd barely been able to hide such juvenile emotions. The longer he kept his eyes fixed upon her the more insistent the pulse nestled between her thighs became, his lips still quirked into a knowing smile.

His fingers were suspended in the air, her skin prickling beneath the layers of her clothes in desperate anticipation, her legs widening where she sat to invite him in without any doubt. She watched him as he glanced down, thrown off when he touched her much higher up, tracing the collar of her blouse. She swallowed the whimper that threatened to give her away, although it wasn't much good as the trembling of her body at the slightest of caresses did just as well.

"As though she could stand a bloody chance," he rasped, tugging lightly on the loose knot that hung from the front of her blouse, "nobody else for me, Bols. Not now, by any road."

Her voice shook as it left her, her eyes gazing up to him, any control she possessed slipping free from her grasp.

"And there's nobody but you, Gene."

He smiled, releasing two buttons fluidly to expose more of her creamy skin.

"Even if you hate me."

She shook her head, her gaze intent on watching him; the insanely long eyelashes that caressed the highest curve upon his cheeks as he looked down, blatantly glancing at her hidden cleavage. The curve of his lips and the darting of the tip of his tongue against them, fully appreciative of what he saw.

"I want you," she uttered, nearly breathless with desire, "I always do."

"A bloke does like to know that 'e's wanted."

Another button undone, the silky ties unfurled and pushed back. Alex gasped as they hung there, brushing against her nipples, tight and peaking beneath her layers. She was being drawn further to the edge, brought close to complete surrender as he ghosted his hands over her torso, barely even touching and gone in the next second.

"Gene," his name one of the few words that made any sense sitting in her mouth at this moment in time, "please..."

He took pity on her, drawing one hand up slowly from her stomach, leaving the most delicious of tingles in its wake.

"No need to beg, Bolly. Not this time, anyway."

His hand looped round the back of her neck, a gasp of anticipation tearing from her throat in the seconds before his lips met with hers. The softness lasted for less than half a heartbeat, pent-up passion and insistence swiftly consuming them both. Her fingers wound into his hair, urging him on as his tongue plundered her mouth, a man possessed and needing her just as much as she needed him, with every fibre of her being.

Twenty four hours previous they'd restrained themselves. Focused entirely on the task in hand, a different kind of satisfaction. She hadn't been lying; she was always aching for him, whether it was a lingering look across the room, a nod of approval at an idea that she scribbled down on a sheet of paper as they formulated their plans or his hands roaming her body, his mouth pressed to hers telling her what didn't need to be spelled out any longer.

They both gasped for breath, eyes mutually dark with desire as they gazed at one another, knowing only too well the next step. With little other option she had offered both Jackie and her niece to stay at the flat for the night, although with Rachel running off again it was likely that Jackie would be out looking for her, cat to her mouse.

Alex shucked off her open blouse, impressed that he hadn't ripped away any buttons in haste, and glanced approvingly as Gene rid himself of his tie, jacket and unbuttoned his shirt with lightning speed.

She slipped down from where she was perched but could hardly make two steps forward before Gene stopped her, his hands clamping against her bare sides.

"Quite fancy having you on your desk," he uttered assertively, his gaze holding her in place just as fervently as his hands did. "Mine's still a right tip, anyway."

The back of her neck flushed hot; she couldn't deny that it was a fantasy of hers, one which she hadn't imagined would come to pass given the little problem of always having an audience. Strangely enough, the thought of sneaking in to fulfil it after-hours hadn't occurred to her.

"I'd like that," she replied, tempering the longing in her voice just enough to feign nonchalance.

As was usual, he could see right through her.

"I _know_ you would."

His hands worked their way up again, caressing her skin, all the nerves underneath screaming out for his touch. She murmured her approval when he seized her breasts, claiming them as his own property.

"Your tits, Bols," he muttered as he rounded them, letting out an appreciative sigh. "Best pair I've ever 'ad the pleasure to get me hands on."

His thumbs worked against her aching nipples through the fabric of her bra, leaving her dizzy with longing, throwing her head back.

"Oh god, please!" she cried, past the point of caring how brazen she was being, whilst he kept up his teasing touches.

"All in good time, Bolly," he said, nuzzling his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Always rushin' two steps ahead. You need to learn 'ow to bloody wait."

She hunched her shoulders up, aiming to get rid of the straps herself. He soon obeyed her wishes, pulling them down and popping the clasp at her back free. The air cascaded onto her, tautening further.

"Christ Almighty," Gene's mouth hung open, mesmerised by the sight of her, and she never got tired of his eyes roaming reverently as though it was the very first time he'd bore witness. "Bloody beautiful."

He moulded his hands to her breasts, fastening a kiss upon her lips while he fondled. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the heavenly sensations he was creating within her, the caress of his fingers never letting up and the strokes of his tongue as it danced with hers. He ran circles around her nipples, teasing them into fullness, and before she could properly mourn the loss of his mouth being melded with hers she inhaled sharply, moaning in delight as he closed his lips around one rosy peak, laving over it with his incredibly talented tongue.

"Oh, Gene," his name lengthened on her lips, her back arching to allow him unfettered access, "don't stop...please..."

He sucked gently at first but hunger quickly took over and he increased the pressure, grazing his teeth against the pert bud. Alex squealed as he bit, soothing with soft flicks in the next second; the most exquisite coupling of pain and pleasure. She was quivering before his mouth moved over, laying a path of kisses in the valley between her breasts before paying the same dedicated attention to the other slightly envious nipple.

As his mouth worshipped her body she registered the tinkling of his belt buckle, tingles travelling down her spine at the sound. Her hands reached out, craving to feel the heat of his skin underneath her fingertips. She brushed the waistband of his boxer shorts and trousers for all but a second, until he pushed her hands away, his lips trailing up to her throat and further, distracting her by kissing her fiercely.

She murmured her appreciation against his mouth, telling herself that she would focus on nothing more than the feeling of his lips against hers and the taste of smoke and beer mixed with the wine she hadn't drunk upon his tongue.

After a few moments revelling in that particular bliss she tried again, raking her nails down his back before aiming to grasp at his hips.

He grunted, lacing his fingers with hers and squeezing a little too tightly, then slapping her hands away for the second time.

"Don't make me get the cuffs, Bols."

"I just want to touch you," she whined, her eyes wide as they looked into his.

The expression on his face was resolute and downright sexy.

"You can touch me as much as you want next time," he said, staring down at her, "I thought I was s'posed to be showing yer how I'd never even think about another woman when there's you. So just bloody well let me do me job."

His hands covered over hers, and he brought both to her breasts, his fingers alternating with hers as they guided over her sensitised nipples, wresting gasps and moans from her lips. Their joined hands swept over the curves of her sides and the plain of her stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt over her skin. Her skirt was still in place upon her hips and Gene hooked her thumbs underneath the fabric whilst he let his hands wander round, guiding the zip down. As it hit the floor, pooling with the trousers that he had already shed, she was left in her ivory lace knickers, nude stockings and suspenders, letting him pull her boots off swiftly.

"That get up of yours was very sexy. Looked more like me secretary than me DI. Couldn't stop wonderin' about what was underneath, though."

He whistled through his teeth, causing her to flush as his eyes raked her from head to toes.

"And do you like what you see?" she questioned him, jutting her hips out.

"More than that, Bolly," he rasped, moving mesmerised towards her again, "I bloody _love_ it. Nothin' like stockings on those legs of yours."

He ran his fingers against the tops of the flimsy material, like a second skin and causing even more excitement within her when he toyed with them.

"Very nice indeed," he affirmed. "I think they can stay. These however," one hand ran up further, edging the lacy trim of her skimpy knickers, " 'ave got to go."

Her breath caught in her throat as the fingers of his other hand rubbed her centre through the lace, the friction causing her heart to stutter within her chest. She mumbled his name as he teased her a little longer, and then tore the knickers from her. She thought she heard a rip but she hardly cared, the throbbing at the apex of her thighs the only thing at the forefront of her mind at that very moment.

His eyes were smiling as he lifted them back to her.

"Well, Bols, I do believe that I was right."

Before she had time to beg two fingers dipped into her sleekness, crooking and working in a wondrous rhythm.

"Gene...oh god," she writhed her hips in time with the thrusting of his fingers, absolutely shameless in her need for him. "Just there...oh Christ, yes!"

He continued his ceaseless ministrations, making her even slicker. As he worked on his thumb guided higher, stroking delicately. He was so close to being exactly where she needed him to be, frustratingly so even though his fingers felt like magic buried in her. Not more than a second passed and then he hit the spot, swiping the pad of his thumb over the little swollen bud that was secreted away within her.

"Oh Gene, yes!"

Her orgasm hit her with force, nearly stealing all the breath from her body. He stroked her clit gently a couple of times before extricating, caressing the inside of her thigh as she descended from the high he had sent her spiralling to.

The fuzz cleared from her head, the release she had been pleading for over a day finally sought, and she raised her head to see Gene in front of her, his face portraying a mixture of immense pride and impatience that threatened to bubble over into something less favourable if he didn't see to the needs of his body soon. His want for her was obvious – probably painfully so for him – in the tenting of his boxers, but they were soon gone and he stood in all his glory before her. Even now she felt a little astounded, wondering whether the feeling would ever dissipate.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's rude to stare, Bols?"

She lifted her gaze with some effort from his straining erection, placing both of her hands behind her to steady herself on the desk.

"I'm sorry, Guv," she uttered sultrily, "I just can't help myself."

He smirked down at her, positioning himself between her legs which she had opened wider for him, instinctively.

"Can't wait a minute longer to be inside you," he said, his tone gruff with raw passion.

Her insides swirled, tingles running riot around her system. She nodded her assent, barely unable to take another second without their bodies being joined herself.

"Gene," she breathed softly, gazing up at him, "can I touch you now?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I s'pose...fuck, Bolly!"

She giggled as she worked her hand up and down his rigid cock, gripping and squeezing lightly, relishing the feel of him against her palm. She brushed against his balls purposely, moving her hand down and guiding him towards her, rubbing his tip against her clit several times and unable to restrain the moans tumbling from her throat.

"Bolly..." his voice was strained as he loomed over her, and she could see the teasing was becoming too much for him to bear.

She removed her hand from him gradually, gasping in delight as he pushed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one slick stroke.

"Oh, Gene!"

Her hips worked against his immediately as he thrust into her, both of them groaning in delight, sweet relief and ecstasy rushing through their bloodstreams. Their bodies fit together perfectly and were perfectly synchronised, feeding off each other's primal need for one another.

"Christ, Bols, you're so wet," he muttered, brow furrowing as she clung desperately to his shoulders, drawing herself upwards to him. "Be as loud as you want, love. There's nobody else around to hear."

He placed his hands on her hips, steadying her as she held herself in a sitting position, his thrusts meeting her wonderfully. Strangled cries left her while she draped her arms about his neck, resting her forehead against his shoulder. The sweat from his skin mingled with her own, their limbs tangled together and bodies pressing yet closer.

He grunted with the effort of keeping her satisfied, held one hand against her cheek to look at her.

"I said you don't have to keep quiet...Alex."

He stroked her face and the hair that fell against it with such tenderness, slowing down his movements within her when he saw the look in her eyes, the yearning that was held within. He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his and the kiss they shared in that moment was enough to make her heart soar, spilling over with love for him.

He poured kisses down her throat to her cleavage, murmuring her name – and not _Bolly_ or _Bols_ – against her skin. Her breath held and the tears stopped themselves from falling, her emotional need sated. She gripped his shoulders tighter, dipping her mouth to his ear.

"Harder...faster...please," she begged of him.

He looked into her eyes, finding the flames of desire alight and read her body's calling. While they remained so close he powered into her, the desk that kept her propped up rattling with the force of their frantic coupling, his hips moving at such a pace that they became a blur.

They met their ends within seconds of each other, the whole of Alex's body thrumming with the most divine escalation of pleasure she'd ever felt. Gene rested his head in the crook of her shoulder, his breath huffing against her skin and tickling her as he took time to recover. He was about to move away and pull himself out of her but she held him in place for a little while longer, her fingers sweeping over his strong shoulder blades, drenched with perspiration.

Moving as easily as breathing she raked her hand repeatedly through his hair, feeling alive with their intimacy. A smile weaved onto her lips as he nudged his nose against her cheek, mouth parting to let out small murmurs when he nipped at her neck. The sensation of his lips sucking at her skin was like fuel surging to her soul and she was almost certain that there'd be a mark left behind, compelling her to wear high-neck blouses for the next few weeks.

"That green-eyed monster still buggin' yer?" he quipped once he had tore himself away, hands gentle on her thighs.

"I think it's gone now," she replied with a hazy smile, her eyes drinking in the pleased expression covering his face.

They picked their clothes from the floor as reality started to encroach again, stealing appreciative glances at one another; there was something just as sexy in watching clothes go back on. Holding her knickers up she ascertained that they were indeed ripped right down one side and stuffed them into the waistband of her skirt, her blouse billowing enough to disguise the lump. Leaving them in her desk drawer was _not_ an option; there was too much ammunition lying around as it was.

"Sergeant Rock isn't off-duty yet," Gene announced, and she noticed him adjusting his trousers so as to attempt to hide the fact. "This is what yer do to me, woman. Turn me into a bleedin' sex maniac."

She smirked lightly, folding her arms across her chest, her breasts still sensitive beneath the silk. _God, what she wouldn't do to have his mouth back on them this very moment._

"Well, you're going to have to dismiss him yourself. I've got to keep Jackie company tonight."

He frowned, having temporarily forgotten about the fact. "She can listen in if she wants. Find out exactly what she's missin', and what she'll never 'ave."

"You are utterly incorrigible, DCI Hunt."

"Dunno what that is, but I'm gunna take it as a compliment." He picked her necklace from the disturbed surface of her desk, moving out of her line of vision to fix it back into place upon her neck. "You know what we should 'ave done? Gone at it in Mac's office before riggin' it up."

The thought had crossed her mind several times the previous night, but they'd been in too much of a rush to get the job done. She wished now she would have acted on the impulse, the mental image of Mac interrogating them about his suspicions too amusing for words.

"Would 'ave liked to hear you talk yourself out of that one, Bols."

She eased herself off leaning on the desk, her skin tingling in the places where his fingers had caressed, activating signals of memory through the rest of her.

"We'll get him eventually," she uttered, looking up at him as he returned to his previous spot.

His chin jutted in assent to her words, his eyes smouldering as they stared back at her, holding her suspended and immobile.

"Nothin' and no one gets between us," he said, his tone causing her to shiver from the inside out, the look in his eyes affirming that he meant what he said. One hand cupped her hipbone while the other lay under the curve of her breast, his touch radiating through her layers. "Not Mac, not Jackie bloody Queen, and not whatever other bastard is lyin' in wait."

She could smell the strong scent of rose petals lingering though they'd long been cleared out of sight, her throat tightening. She felt safer than she ever could with Gene there to protect her and the fear began to dissipate.

She shook her head before she uttered the word softly. "No."

He smiled, the sight becoming less of a rarity to her, leaning forward to capture her lips.

The unexpected sweetness of his kiss was tempered with the light slap of his hand against her thigh.

"Now you'd better clear this mess up, Inspector," he growled into her ear. "You've got the worst desk out of all of them! Not what I expect of my DI."

She glanced down to take in the full picture, a sharp contrast to how pristine it had been before they had had their fun.

"I don't believe that it was all of my own doing, Guv," she chanced her arm, knowing before she'd even finished speaking that it was fruitless, "it does take two to tango."

As she expected he puffed out his chest and drew his head back before making his way to the door, leaving her amongst the strewn sheets of paper and toppled stationery.

"Do I look like Mrs Mop to you? Anyway, someone was stupid enough to order a bottle of wine on _my_ tab without 'aving the decency to even open it 'erself." He raised his brows, shooting her a look that went straight to the apex of her thighs, holding such promise within. "You get this place lookin' spick and span, and there might just be a special reward in store for yer later, Bolly No-Knickers."

* * *

It had been the longest and strangest of days, and she was well aware that was saying something for her in all she had experienced since she had been here. From believing that the chance to nail Jarvis had been thwarted to Mac turning the tables and then orchestrating his own demise, knowing there was nowhere left to run, all in the space of a couple of minutes. She couldn't be sure that she wasn't walking around in a dream within a dream, as twisted as the inner version was.

If this was surreal for her to deal with, she could only imagine what it felt like for Gene.

She watched him from a distance, standing with Ray, Chris and Rachel, though he was set apart from them too, a force-field around him. A sigh that couldn't be expelled was settled in her chest; she wanted to go over and wrap her arms around him, tell him that it was okay to mourn, even in the circumstances. It was a completely natural process and she didn't want to dwell on what it would do to him if he didn't find a way to release everything he was bottling up. She considered that he'd find the solace he was seeking later, his arms around her and her legs twined around his waist as he thrust hard into her, anguish transforming into ecstasy and the immediate pain fading away. She'd soothe him whichever way she could; she didn't want to change him, even as she was hoping that she was making some kind of breakthrough, the deeper their relationship became.

For now she would hold herself back, not make him look 'poofy' in front of the lads.

Jackie stood to the right of her, the feeling between them considerably changed from the day before. In the hours that Rachel had gone missing again Alex had tried her best to be an emotional support to Jackie and once they'd had a chance to talk one-on-one she'd found the other woman much better, if not completely relatable.

At her side Jackie sighed, looking towards her errant niece. "Once we get back I swear I'm going to lock every single window and door so she can never get out of sight."

Alex let out a small laugh in consolation. "When they get to that age there's not much that can be done. Any form of prevention and well-meaning gesture is like a red rag to a bull."

Molly wasn't quite as old as Rachel but she couldn't have been far off, she considered, not knowing for certain. She was fourteen, wasn't she? Or maybe a bit younger, perhaps not a teenager at all. The image of her daughter was blurred over rather than only at the edges, her mind unable to focus. She shook her head as she turned it towards Jackie, told herself she wouldn't dwell on it for now.

"I bloody well hope this one is a boy," her hand travelled over her large bump, "I don't fancy going prematurely grey with the worry."

"I'm sure boys bring their own problems," Alex concluded, her eyes going back to Gene across the station that was getting increasingly busy. Knowing there was nothing she could do other than silently worry, she turned back to Jackie and smiled. "You never know what will happen in the future, either."

"God, no. I've learned my lesson. One is going to be more than enough."

She felt rather wistful at the other woman's adamant statement. It hadn't been her intention for Molly to be like herself, an only child, but life hadn't panned out the way she had planned. Now, in this life, she could barely remember Molly so it had probably been for the best that there wasn't another casualty of the situation.

"I've decided though, I'm going to give up smoking once they get here," Jackie announced, a proud smile on her face which cracked only slightly in the face of Alex's doubting expression. "Or cut back, anyway."

Alex smiled, feeling rather admonished. "I have to apologise to you." Her thumbs hooked in the loops of her jeans as she cast her gaze up from the ground to look the other woman in the eye. "I wasn't very welcoming, or understanding."

"No bother," Jackie said, wafting her hand to dismiss the last of the bad feeling emphatically, "Other women tend to not like me much, probably because I'm too much like one of the boys. You've been a lot nicer than most, believe me."

She still felt awful, wondering sadly what had happened to her feminist ideals over the last forty-eight hours. At least they'd come back before it had been too late, but there was little point in denying her reasoning for behaving so terribly.

Jackie's face transformed into a smirk once more, and Alex had the sudden feeling that she had previously missed her ability to read minds.

"Are you absolutely positive there's nothing going on between you and Hunt?"

The subject had come up last night and she thought she'd deflected it fairly well, putting their 'slinking off' down to police matters. She might have known that a journalist would keep digging, though.

"I'm positive." Her voice had faltered as she spoke the two apparently simple words and she could feel Jackie's eyes upon her, knowing that something in the denial didn't ring true. She had never been much good at lying, and felt she owed the other woman that much at the least. "Well, it's early days."

She waited for the inevitable boasts and gloating of it being _obvious_ , but instead Jackie only smiled.

"You'll be the envy of many women. Once upon a time, I'd have included myself in that number." Alex watched as Jackie's gaze followed to where her own had been residing for most of the evening.

"We're still being professional," she added, not sure why she had to defend herself.

"Oh, I'm sure," Jackie said, half-smiling. "You don't see the way he looks at you, but I can tell you for sure, I've never seen him look at any other woman like that before. Not even his ex-wife. I didn't think he was capable of it."

"Of what?" Alex asked, though she knew what was being implied. She really shouldn't dare to hope, but if other people noticed it too...

"Jesus Christ, don't tell me you're stickin' round," Gene's voice became apparent, his presence larger than life once again, "I 'ad to move two hundred plus miles just to be rid of you, I'm too old to do it again."

Jackie smiled, raising her head to stare down his gaze. "I don't know how you stand it down here. I mean, nothing ever happens."

The sarcasm in her voice couldn't be missed, and the corners of Alex's mouth raised.

"Get on the bus, Jackie. Yer a trouble magnet; always have been." He turned his attention to the youngest member of the party, Jackie's unborn baby not included. "And you, you gobby Manc tart, stay where you're loved."

"Thanks, Mr Hunt," Rachel answered.

"Good luck," Alex offered sincerely, "the both of you."

Jackie smiled in thanks, beginning to shrug off the camel coat she was wearing.

"Here, you'd better take this."

"No, no," Gene held his hand out, "you keep it. You need to keep the baby warm."

Alex found herself smiling down at the ground at his slightly skewed sense of chivalry.

"It smells of whisky," Jackie returned.

He pouted, folding his arms in defence. "Well, add it to the dry cleaning bill."

Rachel boarded the waiting coach, followed by Jackie who turned back to stand in the doorway before it closed.

"D'you know what?" she said, a happy grin filling her face. "I'm going to be a mum."

"That kid needs all the 'elp it can get," Gene said to Alex as the coach pulled out of the station, bound for Manchester. "Ungrateful cow. I bloody loved that coat."

Alex shook her head, knowing that he was using the usual mechanisms in the face of so many conflicting emotions. With Ray and Chris having already made headway she placed a hand upon his arm, silently questioning him with her eyes, soft and searching.

She didn't need to ask him twice.

"I need a drink," he announced.

Many drinks later they found themselves the only remaining occupants of Luigi's, candlelight illuminating the table. It would have been rather romantic if it wasn't for the weight that surrounded them, the shadow of Mac almost looming on the wall facing them if they looked hard enough.

He was trying hard, the air of determination around him and the fervent speech he made to the whole of CID that afternoon still ringing in her ears. She couldn't begin to understand the complexities but she didn't mean to ignore them either. For all his impetus to carry on, to rebuild from new foundations, she knew that somewhere deep down he was reeling from the loss of one of his heroes.

"It's been an interesting couple of days," she said, swirling the bottom of her almost empty glass about on the table.

A shard of glass came close to piercing her straight in the heart when he looked up at her, covering up the pain he felt not quite quickly enough.

"You can say that again, Bols."

She withdrew as quickly as she had made the first move, letting go of the stem and folding her arms tight against her chest. Of course she had wanted to topple Mac from his apparently immovable iron throne, alongside Gene – he had always been the one to lead in this particular mission – but neither of them would have ever asked for this. She tried to think of the departed as not a corrupt superintendent driven by greed and power, or even vulnerability and fear of a swiftly changing world, but as a human being, as flawed as the rest of them. A father, a son. Taken down in the blink of an eye. One bullet; that was all it took. It could have happened to any of them.

"Well, he died like a man," she shored up her courage, not even sure of what she was saying but just hoping it would be of comfort, "that must mean something."

Gene lowered his head, taking a slug from his glass before putting it back onto the table with a clatter.

"He tried to destroy the only thing I ever loved," he raised his gaze to her again, a shudder stopping her pulse momentarily. She knew in her heart that he was talking about the force at large, but she also knew that he had been far from happy when Mac had singled her out and fit her up. "He means nothing, not any more."

The smile didn't quite reach her eyes, still fretting over him and what he wasn't allowing himself to feel as he raised his glass into the air again.

"We did it, Alex," he said, puffing himself back up, "we stood tall and we stared them down."

Her smile became genuine as she clinked her glass with his, sitting straighter in her chair. "Yes, we did."

"You were bein' very pally with Jackie before she went," he changed the subject swiftly, taking another hefty sip, "what was all that about?"

"Just a change of heart," she replied, holding the glass in front of her face. "I don't have many female friends, only Shaz. It'd be nice to have another."

"You might be a bit more discernin'," he huffed.

She fiddled with her hair, knowing she couldn't keep it from him for long. "If you must know, she was asking whether there was something going on between us."

His attention was well and truly piqued. "And what did you say?"

Her eyes gave her away in an instant, and she looked to the side, draining the rest of her glass.

"Bleedin' hell," he exclaimed, "it'll be on the front page of the Manchester Evening News tomorrow."

She smiled, placing her glass and her hands down on the table, leaning in closer towards him and catching the still noticeable scent of his aftershave.

"And would that be such a bad thing?"

His steely gaze stared her out, bottom lip protruding; the air between them crackled with tension and so many possibilities. The telephone rang out in the background and before he could give a proper answer to her question, Luigi came up to the table.

"Signorina Drake? It's for you."

She rose slowly from her seat, her eyes sparkling towards Gene as he lit up a cigarette, falling back into deep contemplation.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver.

For a moment the line seemed dead, and she was on the verge of putting it down, thinking that it must have been a mistake.

"You might be right, Alex," the distinctive voice answered back, sending her blood running cold, "maybe we can help each other, you and me."

Why was he following her about, incessantly? Why couldn't he become a forgotten figment of her memory, instead of her own beloved daughter becoming so, more and more as each day passed?

"Who is this?" she demanded, keeping her voice quiet and as full of uncertain courage as she could manage, "What do you want?"

"Not Hunt. Not Macintosh. That led you down the wrong path altogether."

Fear and trepidation curled low in her gut as she listened down the line. She cast a glance back towards Gene at the table, his head dipped out of view.

"Just you and me," the faceless voice continued, "we're of the same kind. Agree to meet me, and you'll find out exactly how."

"I'm sorry," she replied abruptly, "I have to go."

"You're making a mistake, Alex..."

The words echoed in her ears after she had hung up, walking unsteadily back to the table and to the safety of the man she knew she could depend upon.

Wisps of smoke whirled around him but all she saw were his eyes, a shade of blue close to midnight in the low light and more intent than she had ever seen them before. All at once he appeared guileless, looking at her as if she were an idol, and also as if he had been aware of every word, spoken and otherwise, that had been exchanged.

"Who was that?"

"Nobody," she said too fast, entirely unconvincing. _Shit_. "I mean, it was Jackie. She was just ringing to say that they're back."

"Christ, who was drivin', Nigel Mansell?"

"It was the express coach."

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and he could probably see it for himself if he stared hard enough. She reached for the bottle of wine, pouring the remaining and rather tragic contents into her glass, gulping them back in one go.

"Well, I 'ope this doesn't become a habit. We've got too much to do without you gossipin' with that harpy at regular intervals." He stubbed out the worn-down cigarette with some force in the ashtray. Her gaze lingered on his fingers, finding a much more favourable distraction in the way they moved. "Think I preferred it when you were sharpenin' your claws."

She chuckled, amused by the trademark pout that his face had fallen into.

"I wouldn't worry; we've got lots of things to talk about other than you and your _legendary prowess._ " She couldn't resist waggling her fingers in the air as he scowled.

"You so much as say a single word and you won't be treated to it for a while."

Her smile evened out and she placed her chin upon her open palm, eyes locked with his. That was all that she needed to do; for as long as they were together, staring at one another as though they were each other's harbour in a storm, the rest of the world with all of its corruption and contempt disappeared.

 _Nothing and no one._

She repeated it like a mantra in her head, until she felt sure enough of everything; as much as she allowed herself to be. There was still that part of her whispering otherwise, but she found that voice growing quieter by the day.

He knocked back what was left in his glass in one fell swoop, quicker than she could blink.

"Who the hell am I kiddin'?"

She smirked at him, eyes widening as she waited for some smutty comment to leave his lips and bet against herself at what part of her anatomy he would refer to this time around.

Instead she was wrong-footed, watching him as he stood to full height, extending a hand towards her.

"Let's put this shitstorm of a day behind us, eh, Bols?"

She nodded, slinging her jacket back over her shoulders as she joined him in standing.

"We can go back to mine if yer like," he offered, a note of hesitancy in his tone which melted her and left her in no doubt that she had made a very good choice, not that it had really been hers to decide. "If yer still feelin' shaky about earlier and Mac's heavies." He furrowed his brow as if to say _if they're the best he could do then I really did overestimate him._

Inhaling a steadying breath she thanked him with the look she gave.

"It's okay," she said, placing a hand on his arm after a few seconds had passed, "I've got something in the cupboard to steady my nerves."

"If it's that single malt then I'm hope yer in the mood for sharin'."

"I could be persuaded, I suppose," she chirped, "if you're willing to offer something in exchange?"

He raised his chin in apparent deep thought. "I'm sure I could find a few things up me sleeve, if I look hard enough."

"I'm not interested in what's up your sleeve, Guv," she quipped, biting back her grin but unable to stop the glimmer from glowing in her eyes.

Reaching out for his hand he met her halfway, threading his fingers through the spaces in hers. There was a certain shyness in his expression she glimpsed every time they held hands, and it was the most endearing thing she had ever encountered from anyone.

"It's still a bit of a state up there," she turned around to face him before they made it out of the door, back into the stairwell, "I hope you can put up with a bit of mess."

He scoffed at her, squeezing her hand as it was still entwined with his.

"Given the state your desk is still in then I don't think it'll be a problem, Bols. Y'know, I reckon I ought to teach yer a lesson about that."

She smirked, her heart thundering now for entirely different reasons.

"So long as you can teach me on _your_ desk, it won't be a problem."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed! If you did I'd love to hear it :)**

 **The plan is to continue with a longer sequel to Addicted To Love which takes place after this rather frivolous interlude...watch this space!**


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